“A parachute!” Florence murmured hoarsely.
“It ain’t big enough,” said Mike.
“There’s something dark—” Florence did not finish.
“Oh—ah! Gone into a cloud of smoke,” Tony groaned.
“It—it’s a message or something. I—I’ll get it. I’ve got the direction. You stay right here,” Florence was away.
Dashing through brush, over fallen trees and around giant boulders she had covered half the distance when to her vast astonishment she began hearing strange sounds.
“What can it be?” she asked herself. She stopped dead in her tracks.
What indeed? Now it was like the ki-yi of a badly frightened dog and now like the roar of a mad bull.
As she stood there the sounds grew louder until the whole air seemed filled with them. Then, to her utter consternation she saw poor little Plumdum racing toward her. And after him, tongue lolling, massive antlers tossing, came a giant bull moose.
For ten seconds, her whole body paralyzed with fear, she stood there motionless. Then her alert mind began to work. Full well she knew the hatred every moose bears for every creature of the dog and wolf family.